Unyielding Truths Are Fickle Things
by azurepoet
Summary: What if Milly is a little deeper than she lets on to the world? A look at Trigun through Milly's POV. Please R&R, I could use the creative critiscism. *Chapter 3 up*
1. Still Waters Run Deep

Title: Unyielding Truths Are Fickle Things Author: Azurepoet E-mail: Azurepoettiff@aol.com  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Trigun. I know that they are the creations of the talented Mr. Nightow (And I say "Arigatou" to him every day). Wish I owned Wolfwood though.he would be a handy-dandy thing to have around the house.  
  
A/N: This started as a weird thought I had at 2:30 in the morning.that wouldn't let me do anything else until I wrote it down. It's a look at the series from Milly's point of view, with the idea that the resident "big girl" is a little deeper then she appears.  
  
  
  
  
  
Unyielding Truths Are Fickle Things.  
  
  
  
Chapter 1: Still Waters Run Deep  
  
I smile when I can't think of anything else to say.  
  
Everyone looks at me as a little beam of sunshine, which isn't exactly the most welcome sights on this dry, dusty planet. And I play my part, because I've played it all my life. I was the youngest, the baby. I was so protected that I didn't even have a clue as to what I was being protected from, and there was a small part of me that wanted to know.  
  
I wanted to be like her.  
  
She always reminded me of the Fifth moon: remote, a little cold, but always changing. She's so worldly and sure of herself, sophisticated, and all business. We each know our place. She's a leader, it comes naturally, but she can't lead without someone to follow. She also needs a friend. I can fill both roles, and it works for me because I know I wouldn't be able to travel alone, I would never make it.  
  
I hated her sometimes.  
  
No, not hate. I was jealous of her. She's pretty and petite, but she can hold her own. She's got that mix of brass tacks and femininity that always got her the second and third glances as we walked through rooms. She never let on that she noticed, though. She was always professional. No one was good enough. . .he didn't even make the grade at first. I was always too tall, too intimidating. I tower over most men and even the ones who can look me in the eye usually don't look any higher than my chest.  
  
I knew when we first met.  
  
It wasn't the fancy disarming tricks he pulled to get us out of there alive, or the coat and hair that gave him away. . .it was his eyes. As he ran beside the Thomas deftly stealing doughnuts from Meryl, he glanced back at me. And there it was, a single unguarded moment, lost in time, where everything was just there: the loneliness of the wandering life, the bare- boned suffering, and the ancient wisdom still in early bloom. . . It lasted a millisecond at the most, and I know he didn't do it intentionally, but it happened all the same. When we saw him again at the mansion, he said it all in that simple greeting. Not to give that raw piece of him away. And I understood, and kept my grain of insight deep inside. But I knew then he was the Vash the Stampede.  
  
I tried to tell her.  
  
It was hard because I couldn't express in words how I knew. It was a gut feeling. I covered myself by offering my own brand of logic, like the fact that he responded when I called his name. Meryl just gave me her usual exasperated look and started to lecture me. I smiled and nodded, not really paying attention. There was something about him that made me wonder, and I don't wonder that often. I thought that if he really was Vash the Stampede, that keeping tabs on him was going to be an interesting experience.  
  
I had no idea. . .but even if I'd known then what I know now, I still would have stayed.  
  
Chapter 2: An Angel With The Devil's Luck  
  
A/N: I'm in the process of writing Chap. 2 of this story, and if people like the way I'm going with this, then I'll put it up. If anyone has any suggestions and/or criticisms, please send them my way. I love constructive criticism, and since this is my first attempt at writing a full-length fanfic, I'm hoping to get some hints and tips from more experienced writers. . .or readers. ^_^ 


	2. An Angel with the Devil's Luck

_Unyielding Truths Are Fickle Things_

by Azurepoet.

**A/N**: I have to write a few "Thank You" notes here before I begin. A huge thank you to all of the wonderful people who were kind enough to read and review this story. Your criticisms, praise, and most importantly, your suggestions, inspired me to put my all into the chapters to follow. So once again, thank you thank you thank you! ::gives them all hugs and a doughnut:: 

Next, I've noticed that many people are wondering when I will write about Milly and Wolfwood's relationship. Although I am chomping at the bit to put it up, I wanted to follow the storyline of the anime (Wolfwood doesn't appear until episode 9), look a bit deeper into Milly's relationship with Vash and Meryl, and most importantly, I wanted to devote an entire chapter to her encounters with Wolfwood. So wait a little longer, I promise, it'll be worth it ^_-. 

And last, but not least, I would like to dedicate this chapter to Death, War, and Pestilence for being patient with my annoying need to have my friends read my disturbing little scribbles. 

Ok, enough rambling, onwards to Chapter 2!

Chapter 2: An Angel With the Devil's Luck 

She treated him like he was a black cat or something.

I suppose on the surface it did seem like trouble followed him wherever he went, which really wasn't fair at all. He was always tried to be kind to everyone, even the ones who were trying to kill him. And there were a lot of people out there who would gladly see him dead, reward or no reward. Meryl used to go on and on about how he was responsible for every scrape we managed to get into. I would point out that he always got out of them somehow. She would usually ignore me. I never had the courage to tell her how I felt about him. She looks at the world through her brain. Everything has to fit in its proper place, and if it doesn't, well, it's either fixed or ignored as an "inconsequential fluke" as she used to put it. I always think with my gut. I don't know why, but I find that I can't help but say what I feel, even if it sounds stupid in my head. But every once in while it turns out that I'm right. Vash told me once that I was kinda scary that way. Meryl still refuses to admit that I knew Vash was "Vash" before she did…but I don't mind. I don't think he was unlucky. It's just that people created bad luck around him, blamed him for all of their problems, even when he really had nothing to do with it. People treat black cats the same way, I think. The cat doesn't bring bad luck, but people need a convenient scapegoat. And they often forget that even the sweetest cat has claws.  

There was something different about him.

Well, besides the doughnut obsession, and his hair (which I always thought was neat, but Meryl pretended to hate). Yes, there were times where he acted a little silly, and his attempts to hit on women were…well, he could be less than suave. But I watched him, and the way he worked through his problems. It seemed no matter how bad things got, now matter how dark things became, he would manage to save people, even if it meant he got hurt in the process. It was amazing, really. Even when an entire town was hunting him down, he still turned around and helped them in their time of need. Everyone was stunned to see him gently carry those women out of the rubble. I'm not sure if they were shocked at the fact that they were still alive or that Vash didn't leave them there to die. He was so patient and deliberate, the fact that there was a giant waiting a few feet away to smash him to bits didn't seem to phase him at all. And finally, when all the women were in a safe place, he was ready to fight. He stood there, the sun blazing down on those golden glasses, without saying a word. The only sound were the streams of abuse "Professor" Nebraska was heaping on Vash and the shuffle his boots made as he turned to face them. I'd never seen him like that before, it was frightening. I snuck a quick peek at Meryl. She was completely stunned. We watched him take them down, five quick shots to the fist, one in the arm. He was so fast I almost missed it. I thought it was a quick glimpse at "Vash the Stampede", the outlaw whose very name caused even the toughest bandits to quiver in fear, the man who single-handedly brought an entire city to ruin. And then…the next thing I know he was shouting "Love and Peace" with the children.

I always thought…he was an angel.

I wasn't sure if he was a guardian angel or an angel of justice. Maybe he was just an ordinary man with an angel's soul. But there was something otherworldly about him. It wasn't the surface things that planted that thought in my head, although they did help. Children sort of gravitated toward him, and he was always ready with a sunny smile and a new game to play. He reminded me of my middle older brother. Even though he was almost grown up while I was still a little kid, he always took time to play dolls with me…well, not in front of his friends, but I appreciated the time together anyway. The fact that Vash never took a life, even if he was threatened with death, didn't give him away in my eyes either. Or that he was able to walk out of that plant in Inepril City alive when it should have exploded and killed us all. It was afterwards, at the thank you party the town threw for him, that my gut feeling about him kicked in. We were sipping at our beers, and I was chattering cheerfully (I was trying to make up for Meryl's quiet, thoughtful mood) when he turned and looked at me. He was unusually solemn for a brief moment, then he told me I reminded him of his mother. It was the first time he had said anything about his past to me, and I was shocked into silence. Then one of the townspeople grabbed him and took him to the bar for another round. He instantly went back to being jovial and rambunctious. But for that brief moment, he reminded me of an angel who'd lost his wings. Resigned to living on this God-forsaken planet, but wishing deep in his heart that he could find his way back to Paradise. Even though he was surrounded by happy people who wished him well, he looked so lonely. I sympathized with him. Although Meryl was my friend, I always felt more like her pet. Something she had to take care of, but kept her company, so it was alright. 

That's why I was so glad when we…when Vash found…him.

A/N- Sorry about the shortness of the chapter, but I wanted to make sure I didn't give away too much. And I want to get to the delicious chapter about everyone's favorite priest! Anyway, drop me a line, tell what you think, and remember, constructive criticism is always appreciated! ^_^


	3. Sinner, Save My Soul

A/N: Gomen! Please excuse the horrible delay with this chapter. I know I promised to have this done a long time ago, but the DVD with episode 9 just found it's way home a short time ago, and using episode guides just don't cut it.

But here it is, straight from my mind to you…the Wolfwood chapter! I hope you all like it, and I would also like to give giant hugs to all of the wonderful people who took the time to review. I can't explain how much your simple words of encouragement and praise brighten my week. ^_^

This chapter is dedicated to Papa Bear, for being as cool as Wolfwood without even trying. ^_-

Chapter 3: Sinner, Save My Soul.

I was hoping to lighten his mood a little.

He was still a little miffed about the scene I caused while we were waiting for the bus to take us to May City. Meryl and I didn't have enough to pay for our tickets, and we couldn't access our allowance until we got to the bank. Meryl knew we _had_ to get to the city; otherwise we couldn't make our report about the sand steamer. If that report didn't get in on time, we would lose our jobs. I said we should ask Vash for a loan, but she was too proud to ask him for anything. She didn't want him to think of her as weak, because her weakness would betray her as feminine, and if he noticed her as a woman she'd have a lot more trouble thinking of him as anything other than an overgrown, destructive child. So I caused a scene, making as much noise as possible, telling him how I would haunt him until the end of his days while fat tears tumbled down my cheeks. He knew I was full of it.  I knew he would relent. But he was still grumpy.  It was making the ride uncomfortable. So when Meryl left for the bathroom I thanked him for his kindness, ignoring his snide remarks about empty wallets. I was actually having fun until Meryl hit him on the back of the head and announced to the people on the bus that she had kindly shut him up for them and they wouldn't have to worry about him bothering them anymore. Did hitting him and making that small scene make her feel in control? I wondered if the flash of agitation on her face held the tiniest tinge of jealousy. Did she feel left out somehow? 

He pointed out a small burst of light on the horizon.

It was tiny, I didn't see it at first, but when Vash made the bus driver head toward it, it looked like a fallen star caught in a sand dune. We moved closer, and the glare from the suns lessened slightly, a dark shape stood out on the horizon. It was a…cross. A giant creation covered in cloth and straps, its buckles gleaming cheerfully. Sitting beneath it was a man, or at least the remains of one. We all piled out of the bus, wondering if he was still alive. He was so…still. I couldn't tell if he was breathing. It wasn't until he lifted his sweat-covered face and greeted us that I realized I had been holding my breath the whole time. We got him and his cross on the bus and continued on our way. Meryl gave him Vash's water bottle and I gave him some tissue to wipe his face with. There was something oddly appealing about watching him drink, the way his hair brushed his collar when he tipped his head back, how he took from it greedily, never pausing to breathe. For a moment there was only him and the water bottle. It was if he was aware of the world but excluded the things that weren't immediately important to him. He was utterly fascinating. 

He bothered me.

He was a mass of contradictions, just like Vash. His personality danced from here to there like sand in the wind. He and Vash acted like two mutts meeting on unmarked territory, each one barking and growling at the other under a paper-thin layer of civility. They were testing each other, but I could tell that they were going to get along as soon as they stopped acting like little boys. He was charming and polite toward Meryl and I. His eyes softened slightly when he looked at us; they held an intoxicating mix of charisma and yearning. At first I thought they were aimed toward Meryl. She is usually the one people address, the spokesperson for our little team. It was no wonder, considering his smoky eyes ripped the stupidest things from my tongue. Later, I watched him while he shared some food with a pair of hungry children. It made my heart ache. I never would have thought something so simple, so gentle could come from him. Meryl said something to me, and I tore my eyes away. 

I was pretending that I wasn't listening to them talk.

I was perfectly content to sit there quietly, watching him in the window's reflection. I was happy they came back safe and sound, and I was joyous because he had complemented me on my shooting skills. It was sad really, how a few carelessly tossed words of praise from his lips made my blood hum. I replayed them in my head, savoring the moment like the last bit of ice cream that caresses your tongue and strolls down your throat. The next thing I knew the object of my reverie was beside me, casually settling against me and murmuring that I was comfortable. I couldn't move. My whole body was resonating with heat. I know most of it was glowing red hot on my cheeks. I didn't dare breathe for fear that he would change his mind and move somewhere else. I carefully glanced down at him. He had a little smirk on his face as if he _knew_ he was making me tremble. I sat that way until morning, somehow managing to sleep without disturbing him. 

Wolfwood. His name tasted like sin and redemption all in one.

When we said our goodbyes, I watched with a bit of awe as he easily slung that cross onto his shoulders after it took four men to get it off the bus. With that same smirk he had on his face the night before he told them it was full of mercy. I didn't believe it for a second. Any man who carried Mercy with him shouldn't be able to dole out Desire at random, knowing it will only cause Anguish when it goes unfulfilled. But I smiled and waved goodbye to him anyway, holding on to the fact that I would able to keep a sliver of a delicious dream in my head. 

It would have to be enough.

A/N: Awww, poor Millie! But don't feel bad…she'll get hers in the next chapter ^_-. Ok, so please leave me a note to tell me what you think…even if you think this is complete garbage. ^_^


End file.
